


Irreconcilable

by sahiya



Series: Irondad Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alcohol, College Student Peter Parker, Don't copy to another site, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad Bingo 2019, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Gets a Hug, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Break Up, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 18:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19068019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: “We’ll still be friends, right?” she said, frowning at him over slightly grainy video on his phone. “We said we’d always be friends.”It sounded unexpectedly plaintive, coming from her. Peter swallowed.We’ll always be friendshad seemed easy to promise back in August. It was harder now, with the sting of rejection so fresh. She’d tried to tell him that it was about her, about how she had changed, but he knew it was about him, too. He wasn’t what she wanted.“Yeah,” he said dully. “Yeah, of course.”





	Irreconcilable

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to xxx_cat_xxx to donating her Irondad Bingo card to me! This is for the "alcohol" square. This will, apparently, be my summer project. I'm hoping to incorporate some of the prompts you all gave me recently. 
> 
> This _almost_ fits into the same universe as "Nursery School Hell Germs" and "Head Above Water," except that in HAW Peter mentions a bad experience with Fireball whiskey that has put him off cinnamon flavored anything, and the Peter in this fic hasn't drunk much beyond a few beers before this story. But both stories inhabit a post-Endgame world where Carol wore the gauntlet, and the conversation that Peter and Tony have about his relationship with MJ in HAW applies here, too (but isn't necessary to read this story).
> 
> Thanks to Fuzzyboo for giving this a once-over!

It was stupid to be so upset about it. 

It wasn’t like Peter hadn’t known it was coming. The last time he and MJ had seen each other, over MJ’s spring break, things had been... weird. There was something in her voice when she talked about her friend Emmie. Something that made Peter go hot with jealousy in a way he’d sworn he’d never, ever do. 

Emmie was VP of the campus chapter of the Democratic Socialists of America. Emmie had already been arrested twice for blocking traffic while protesting. Her lip, eyebrow, and tongue were pierced. She was trying very hard to talk MJ into a tattoo. _My first tattoo,_ MJ had said, as though it was a given that she’d be getting others. 

It took Peter most of three days to realize that listening to MJ talk about Emmie made Peter feel boring. Average. Mundane. He was a clean-cut white boy majoring in engineering at MIT. He not only had a job waiting for him with Stark Industries when he finished, Pepper was grooming him to take over someday. He hadn’t grown up with a silver spoon in his mouth and was an honest-to-God superhero, but none of that seemed to matter. 

He’d helped save the world, but more and more, it seemed like MJ wanted to burn it to the ground and rebuild it as something totally different. Peter had plans in the world-changing direction himself, but he knew what she thought about corporations like SI. They upheld the world order, and any world-changing innovations that came out of them were always going to uphold the world order, too. 

Somewhere, deep down, Peter had always known that being stronger, faster, smarter wasn’t enough. Not for MJ. 

He just wasn’t radical enough for her. He wasn’t angry. Not the way she wanted him to be. 

They had two frustrating conversations about it during her visit to Cambridge. Peter felt like they were talking past each other in a way they never had before. The second conversation ended in sex on Peter’s stupid lofted dorm bed, and even that was weird. Not just weird, but also kind of bad in a way it hadn’t been since they’d been fumbling high school students who hadn’t known nearly as much as they’d thought they did about what-went-where. 

Back in August, when they’d said goodbye, there hadn’t been any gap in their levels of experience. Even at winter break, it hadn’t been super obvious. Peter didn’t know what had changed––didn’t _want_ to know, if he was honest––but it was suddenly, blindingly clear that MJ knew a lot more about sex now than he did. 

It wasn’t cheating. They’d agreed that they could see other people when they were apart, and Peter had already been pretty sure that MJ was. But he’d never been as certain about it as he was then. 

He thought they were both relieved the next morning, when it was time for her to get on her train to New York.

He thought she would do it once she was back in California, but she didn’t. Not right away. Things just kind of limped along––for a month, then two months. Sometimes he could pretend that things were fine. But he knew they weren’t. 

He didn’t know what inspired her to break-up with him on a random Wednesday, three weeks from the end of his semester. He didn’t want to ask. It seemed irrelevant, anyway. 

“We’ll still be friends, right?” she said, frowning at him over slightly grainy video on his phone. “We said we’d always be friends.”

It sounded unexpectedly plaintive, coming from her. Peter swallowed. _We’ll always be friends_ had seemed easy to promise back in August. It was harder now, with the sting of rejection so fresh. She’d tried to tell him that it was about her, about how she had changed, but he knew it was about him, too. He wasn’t what she wanted. 

“Yeah,” he said dully. “Yeah, of course.”

She studied him through the phone screen. “Summer’s going to be busy,” she said at last. “I might not be in the city much.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

“The lake house?”

“Yeah. Tony’s...” Peter swallowed. She’d started getting a pinched look whenever Tony’s name came up. She had it now, and it made him not want to tell her what he and Tony had planned for the summer. “Yeah.”

“Okay. Well.” She gave a small sigh. “I’ll text you when I’ll be in town.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

And just like that, Peter and MJ were over. 

It really was stupid to be so upset about it, Peter thought, swiping angrily at the tears that welled in his eyes. He’d seen it coming. He should be glad she’d finally put him out of his misery. 

Should be. Wasn’t. 

***

“That sucks, man,” Ned said when Peter told him. “But you said things weren’t right when she visited.”

“I know, I just... I feel like neither of us tried to fix things. Maybe if we just tried harder––”

“Peter,” Ned said quietly. 

Peter sighed. “Yeah. I know.”

“It just sucks.”

Peter laughed weakly. “Yeah.”

“You okay? You got people to hang out with up there?”

The truth was that Peter kind of didn’t have anyone to hang out with. He had friends, sure––study group friends and dorm friends and people he ate lunch with sometimes. But he didn’t have Ned. He didn’t have anyone whose shoulder he could cry on. 

A rush of homesickness blocked his throat, and it took him a few seconds to answer. “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said, voice strained. 

Ned was briefly silent. “You kind of don’t sound fine. Why don’t you come down here for the weekend? You can stay with me––or May. You know she’d love to see you.”

May would love to see him. But Happy had moved into the apartment like two weeks ago, and May had warned him just the day before that his room was full of stuff they were cleaning out. _It won’t stay that way, sweetie, don’t worry, but we’re konmari-ing the entire apartment, and it’s––well, it’s a lot._

Peter wasn’t sure what that meant, but he had the feeling it wouldn’t make him feel better to see it. 

“It’s okay,” Peter said. “I have so much work to do.”

“Yeah,” Ned said, sounding just the slightest bit relieved, “me too. But have some fun this weekend, okay? Go to a party or something. Let loose a little. You work way too much.”

Peter swallowed. “Yeah. Okay. Thanks.”

“Good.” Ned sighed heavily. “I know I said this already, but it just––it sucks, man. I’m on your side.”

“There aren’t any sides, Ned.” Peter rubbed the bridge of his nose. His head hurt. He hadn’t slept well at all the night before. “Neither of us did anything bad.”

“She dumped you,” Ned replied. “And I know you feel shitty about it, don’t tell me you don’t.”

“I do, but it’s not––it’s not her fault. Maybe it’s even my fault, I don’t know.” 

“Hey, no––Peter, don’t––”

“It’s fine, Ned,” Peter said. “I’m not spiraling, I promise. It’s something everyone goes through, right? Getting your heart broken is a rite of passage. It sucks, but you get over it.”

“Right,” Ned said, kind of slowly, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not he agreed. “Still.”

Peter suddenly didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Look, I got class in like fifteen minutes, I gotta go.”

“Okay. Remember, you promised me you’d have fun this weekend! I want, like, photographic evidence of it!”

Peter forced a laugh. “You got it. Thanks, Ned.” 

***

 **Peter:** I don’t want this to be a thing, but MJ and I broke up.  
**Tony:** Aww kid. I’m sorry.  
**Peter:** It’s fine. It happens. Most people don’t end up with their high school girlfriend.  
**Tony:** Yeah, but it’s okay to be upset about it.  
**Peter:** I’m fine. I knew it was probably coming.  
**Tony:** You want to come up to the house this weekend? Morgan would love to see you. I got some new webshooters for you to try. And the weather is supposed to be really nice, so we could put the boat in the water and take it out for the first time this year. Just the two of us.  
**Peter:** Thanks, but I’m buried under a mountain of work this weekend. I’m fine. Like I said, I don’t want it to be a big deal.  
**Tony:** If you’re sure. Offer stands, though. 

***

 **May:** Honey, Tony just told me about you and MJ. Are you okay????  
**Peter:** Yeah. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.  
**May:** The apartment is a mess, but he said that if you wanted to come down for the weekend, we could use the penthouse. What do you think? Just you and me. I already told Happy he wasn’t invited.  
**Peter:** Thanks, but that’s really okay. You and Happy have lots to do, I know. And I’m so busy, you have no idea. I’m fine.  
**May:** Sweetie, don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t believe you.  
**May:** Peter?  
**May:** I’m calling you tonight, and you’d better pick up. 

***

It wasn’t hard to find a party at MIT. Peter didn’t go to them all that often, but he heard about them, mostly through his partner in chem lab, Janie, whose boyfriend was a junior and lived in a house off campus. They were having a party on Friday, she told him, when he hinted around a bit before lecture on Thursday. Just a few people. “I’m making Jello shots,” she added brightly. “You should come.”

“Yeah,” he said, “maybe I will.” 

She frowned at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but why the sudden interest? You don’t come to anything.”

Peter gave a shrug. “I, um. I broke up with my girlfriend.”

“Ohhh,” she said, sounding enlightened. “Looking for a rebound? I have, like, at least five friends who’d be interested. Mostly girls, but I think my friend Mike would be down, if you’re into that.”

“Oh, I, uh, I don’t––I’m not really looking for a rebound,” Peter said awkwardly. “Just some fun, you know?”

Janie shrugged. “We can do that, too. And who knows? After a couple of Jello shots, a rebound might start sounding like a good idea.”

Peter smiled tightly. He hadn’t ever had more than two or three beers in an evening, but he was pretty sure the Jello shots weren’t going to do anything for him. Still, Janie’s cheerful indifference was easier to handle than May and Tony’s overbearing concern.

May kept calling. After Peter failed to pick up for twenty-four hours, Tony started calling too. Peter put his phone on Do Not Disturb and ignored it. He didn't trust himself to hold it together if he heard their voices, and he was not going to fall apart over this. It was not the end of the fucking world. He’d actually _done_ the end of the world, and there was no reason that this should feel worse. 

***

 **Peter:** I don’t know how many more ways to say this, but I’M FINE. It is not a big deal.  
**Peter:** And I need you both to back off. I’m going to a party tonight because I promised Ned I’d have fun this weekend, and I don’t need my phone blowing up the whole time.  
**Peter:** TL;DR: Dial the concern down to like a six.

***

Peter got a single reply back from each of them in their respective private chats. 

May’s was four words long. _Make good choices, sweetie._

Tony’s was slightly longer. _Heartbreak and alcohol/drugs can mix in ugly ways. Try to be safe, and remember that you can ALWAYS call me. I can be there in 40 minutes with a suit._

Peter snorted and shoved his phone in his pocket. He wasn’t fucking heartbroken. And even if he was, he probably couldn’t get drunk. 

***

The party was _loud_. 

Peter had shown up pretty early, thinking it might not be so raucous yet. And it was true that most people were still sober, though the Jello shots had already been broken out, and there was some sort of punch happening in a literal bucket, so that wouldn’t last long. But the music was piercing. 

For some reason, Peter hadn’t brought the anti-hearing aids that Tony had made him. It was stupid of him; this was exactly the sort of situation Tony had had in mind when he’d made them. But they were at home in his nightstand. 

Peter winced. Maybe a drink would help, if it did anything for him at all. 

“Peter!” Janie yelled over the din. “You came!”

“Yeah, I did,” Peter replied, smiling at her. She was wearing a short black dress and a lot more eyeliner than she did in chem lab. “Thanks for inviting me.”

She grabbed him by the arm. “Come meet my friends. And you need a drink! Here, Jello shot first, then jungle juice.”

“Um, what’s in the jungle juice?” Peter asked, eyeing it warily. That was a _lot_ of empty liquor bottles sitting by the bucket.

“Odds and ends,” Janie said. “And Hawaiian punch. And pineapple juice. Here, Jello shot.” She shoved a disposable shot glass full of green Jello in his face. “Do one with me. One, two, three.” She threw her head back and slurped the green Jello out all at once. 

Peter followed suit and _just_ managed not to make a face. It tasted like drain cleaner. This was why he didn’t drink––it was fucking gross. 

The jungle juice was slightly better. It was overwhelmingly sweet, and while Peter could still taste the strange mix of alcohol underneath the layers of sugar, it wasn’t quite so terrible. 

There was no food at all, Peter realized, looking around. A lot of booze and not even a bowl of potato chips. He hadn’t really eaten dinner. Or lunch for that matter. Just hadn’t been hungry. But it occurred to him now that maybe that hadn’t been the best idea. 

None of this was really feeling like the best idea, if Peter was honest with himself. Looking around at a swarm of people he didn’t know, he couldn’t help but wish he’d taken either Tony or May up on their offer. He could be at the lake house right now. It was late enough that Morgan would be in bed, so he’d probably be hanging out with Tony in the garage. If he’d gone to the city to see May, they’d be well into their second movie by now, curled up on the sofa in the penthouse at Stark Tower. 

_Why are you doing something you hate just to prove you’re normal?_

That was MJ’s voice, for sure. Peter chugged the rest of his jungle juice. Fuck that. He was going to have fun. He’d promised Ned. 

***

A cup and a half of jungle juice later, Janie introduced Peter to her friend Amanda––for a certain value of “introducing” that involved smashing them together and yelling, “Peter just broke up with his girlfriend!” before peacing out.

“Um,” Peter said, blinking. He was maybe feeling the alcohol a little. No food and not a lot of sleep probably helped. He wasn’t drunk, but he was feeling sort of... outside himself. 

“Sorry about your girlfriend,” Amanda offered. 

“It’s okay,” Peter said. And then, for lack of anything else to say, he offered, “Jello shots?”

“Actually, I saw some not totally terrible tequila,” she said, smiling at him. “Let’s do that instead.”

Peter wasn’t sure if May would’ve classified doing body shots off someone he’d met five minutes ago as a good choice or not. It was definitely distracting. She smelled good––not the cheap perfume she was wearing, but her skin, beneath the tequila and lime and salt. When it was her turn, he offered her his wrist instead of his neck; she blinked briefly, then accepted it. 

He closed his eyes, trying to shut out at least some of the sensory overload. His head was spinning. 

He opened his eyes in time to watch her do the shot. “I don’t. I don’t want...” he started. 

She smiled at him around the slice of lime in her mouth. She spit it out into a napkin and said, “It’s okay. I don’t, either, but if we stick together, at least Janie won’t shove anyone else at us?”

“Oh,” Peter said with relief. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

It was a little better with Amanda. She was a year ahead of him, majoring in bioinformatics. She was smart and funny and nice, and it felt good to put his arm around her. Maybe another night he would’ve been interested. 

“Awww, so cute!” Janie said, returning with a handful of Jello shots. “These are the last ones. Do them with me!”

Peter and Amanda exchanged a look and then a shrug. They each did one, and then there was one left over, which Janie told Peter was his. He did it and managed not to make a face this time. They were either getting better or he was getting used to them. 

***

It actually _was_ fun after that. For maybe an hour. And then suddenly it was not fun at all. 

It was like a switch flipped in Peter’s head. One minute he was fine, waiting for Amanda to come back with drinks, and the next minute everything was wrong, and he felt exhausted and nauseous and his head was swimming, and all he could think was that if MJ could see him right now, it’d just confirm everything she secretly thought about him. 

She’d said it was about her. How she’d changed, what she wanted. How there was so much she hadn’t known when they’d gotten together.

He knew she’d meant to reassure him that he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he’d heard what she was really saying loud and clear: she’d chosen him out of ignorance, and now that she knew more, he wasn’t enough. He was never going to be enough. It wasn’t anything he did, it was just _him._

He’d told her he loved her. She’d said it back. There was so much she knew about him that no one else did, not Ned or Tony or May. But in the end she just _hadn’t wanted him_ , and that hurt. It hurt like getting shot in the gut, and Peter should know, because he had been once. 

“Uh oh,” Amanda said, returning with two cups of jungle juice. She set them down hastily on the coffee table. “I know that look. Are you going to puke or cry?”

“Um,” Peter said shakily. “I don’t know.”

“Right,” she sighed. “Hey,” she added to the two guys flirting on the sofa, “those drinks are yours now. Come on, Peter, let’s go outside.” She hauled him up and put his arm around her shoulders again, wrapping her own arm around his waist. He stumbled a little before finding his feet, and then she was guiding him through the sweaty, heaving press of bodies to the front door. 

There were more people outside, but it was quieter and the cool spring air felt good on his face. He took a deep breath, trying to force his head clear, but it didn’t work. He had no idea how much he’d had, but it was way more two or three beers. 

They sat down on the curb next to a fire hydrant. “If you’re going to puke, puke that way,” Amanda told him, pointing away from herself toward a storm drain. “I don’t care that Janie set me up with the hottest mess at that party, but if you puke on me, I will never speak to you again.”

“Fair,” Peter said. He rubbed his eyes. “I’m not––I’m not usually like this.”

“I believe that,” she said. “So when Janie said your girlfriend broke up with you, that happened when?”

“Wednesday.”

“And how long had you been going out?”

“Two years,” Peter said, dully. “Since the summer after the Reversal. We were both Snapped.”

“Me too,” she said shortly. She was quiet for a few beats. “You don’t strike me as someone who drinks much.”

“I’m not. I don’t like it.”

“Then you probably shouldn’t do it.”

“I know, I just... my best friend told me I should have fun this weekend. Not just... mope.”

Amanda sighed. “One person’s fun is another person’s misery. And moping is okay when you’re forty-eight hours out from getting dumped.”

“I guess,” Peter said. “I just... I wish...”

“Not your therapist, dude,” she interrupted. “Or your mom.”

“Yeah,” he said, wincing. “Sorry. You’re really nice to hang out with me. You can go back in, though, I’m okay.”

She looked dubious. “You got someone to call? _Not_ your ex?”

 _Ouch_. That was the first time Peter had heard MJ referred to that way. But he guessed it was accurate. She was his ex now. “Yeah,” he said quietly. 

“Okay.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and looped her arms around them. “I’ll stay here until you do, all right?” 

Peter smiled weakly. “Okay.” He fished his phone out of his pocket, where he stalled briefly on who to call. But Tony’s text was at the top of his chats, and his eye was caught by the phrase _you can ALWAYS call me_. May didn’t have any way of getting here in less than three hours, and Ned didn’t have a way of getting here at all, and besides––Peter was drunk and woozy and really fucking sad. He felt like Tony would probably get that. 

***

Except that Tony didn’t pick up. It went to voicemail. 

And that was when Peter burst into tears. 

“ _Shit_ ,” Amanda said. 

***

It took less than two minutes of blubbering on the curb for his phone to ring. Peter fumbled his phone to his ear. “Tony?”

“I’m so sorry, kid,” Tony said, “your timing was impeccable. I was trying to get Morgan to go back to sleep and FRIDAY was running diagnostics, it was like a five minute window when neither of us could pick up for you. Are you okay?”

“I, um.” Peter swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Amanda took the phone right out of his hand. “Hi, could you come pick Peter up from 23 Decatur Street, right off the MIT campus? He’s had way too much to drink and he’s kind of a disaster.” She listened for a moment. “No, no hospital––he seems better just sitting here. He hasn’t puked yet, but I guess he still might.” She paused. “Jello shots and jungle juice.” She laughed, unexpectedly, and then handed the phone back to him. 

“Tony?”

“I’m on my way, kid. Stick with your friend, all right? She seems sensible.”

“Okay,” Peter said, and hung up. 

“Your dad’s pretty cool,” Amanda said after a few seconds of silence. “Mine would wig out if I called him from a party like this.”

“He’s not really my dad,” Peter said. “I mean... he kind of is? But not biologically. And he partied pretty hard when he was younger, so he doesn’t have a lot of stones to throw.”

“Hmm.” She studied him. “Are you a faculty brat? He sounded familiar. And he must live pretty close by, he said he’d be here in forty minutes.”

“It’s kind of a long story.” Peter sighed. “Look, you don’t have to wait here with me. You’ve already done way more than you have to for someone you just met. Go back to the party.”

She shrugged. “I don’t really want to go back to the party, to be honest. Janie’ll just find someone else to set me up with, and with my luck they’ll be even more of a mess than you are. At least you’re interesting to talk to when you’re not crying about your ex.”

“Sorry,” he said, a little miserably. 

She patted him on the back. “It’s okay. Want me to run inside and get you some water?”

“You don’t have to––”

“So, that’s a yes,” she said, standing up. “Be right back.”

He waited until she’d left and then pulled out his phone. 

_So, news_ , he wrote to Ned. _Turns out, Spiderman CAN get drunk. Also, he’s a crier._

Ned wrote back immediately, _Oh no. On a scale of one to Flash getting pantsed during the Decathalon final, how bad are we talking?_

_Like a three, maybe. But I think I might’ve made a new friend? If she forgives me for crying all over her about MJ._

_!!!!! That’s great, man. Are you okay now?_

_Yeah, Tony’s coming to get me._

Peter slipped his phone back in his pocket just as Amanda returned with waters for both of them. “That better not have been your ex you were texting,” she said sternly. 

“Nah,” Peter said, smile fading. “Just a friend.”

***

Peter had been pretty sure that Tony wouldn’t show up as Iron Man, but he was still relieved when a black car pulled up right in front of the fire hydrant and Tony got out of the back. He was wearing the “Midtown Science & Tech Dad” hoodie Peter had gotten him for Father’s Day the year after the Reversal and oil-stained jeans. 

He was also totally, unmistakably Tony Stark. 

“Wait,” Amanda said, eyes widening. “No fucking way.”

“Hey kid,” Tony said, looking down at Peter. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “Just tired.”

“Am I hallucinating?” Amanda wondered aloud. She turned and glared at Peter. “Was there a reason you didn’t tell me that ‘Tony’ who was coming to get you was Tony fucking Stark?”

Peter shrugged. “I’m kind of used to people not believing me. Would you have believed me?”

Her mouth opened and closed a few times. “I don’t know,” she admitted. She looked up at Tony. “Um, hi. I’m Amanda.”

“Hi Amanda, I’m Tony,” he replied, looking amused. “Thanks for looking after Pete. I’ve got him from here, though, if you want to go back to the party.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said. She glanced at Peter. “Hey, give me your phone.”

“Okay,” Peter said, handing it over. 

“No, unlock it first, you dummy.”

“You didn’t say to––okay, okay, fine, here!”

She took the phone and used it to send a text. “Now you have my number. Text me sometime when you’re not actively crying about your ex. We can get pizza or something.”

“Oh,” Peter said, blinking at her. “Yeah. Um. I will?”

“Good.” She shoved herself up off the curb. “Nice to meet you, Tony.”

“Likewise,” Tony said. He looked down at Peter, hands on his hips. “Aw, kid. Come on.” He offered him his hand. Peter let him haul him to his feet. His head swam a little bit and he swayed; Tony caught him by the elbow. “How drunk are you still?”

“Not very,” Peter said. “Maybe a little. Mostly I think I’m really hungry.”

Tony looked at him sharply. “Are you doing the not-eating thing again? You know you can’t get away with that with your metabolism.” Peter shrugged, and Tony heaved a sigh. He put his arm around Peter’s shoulders. “Never mind. It’s been a rough couple of days, I know. Come on.”

Tony gestured Peter into the back seat of the car, and then crawled in after him. Peter didn’t ask where Tony had gotten a car and driver at the last minute on a Friday night in Cambridge. Peter’s experience was that cars and drivers just sort of _appeared_ for Tony Stark.

“Where are we going?” Peter asked. They weren’t heading in the direction of his dorm. 

“I booked us into the Méridien,” Tony said. “Thought maybe you needed a vacation from your life for a couple of days, but I didn’t want to drag you away from campus if you needed to work. So, you’re here, you can do what you need to do so you don’t stress out even more, but you get to sleep in a bed that isn’t lofted. Plus, room service.”

Peter blinked, surprised. “Oh. And are you... you probably have to go back tomorrow,” Peter said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

Tony shook his head. “Pepper’s home this weekend. I’m free to stay until Monday morning.”

“Oh,” Peter said, “that’s... wow.”

“Good?” Tony prompted. 

“Yeah. Really good.” Peter swallowed, his throat feeling tight all over again. “Thanks, Tony.”

“No problem, kid. I’m just glad you called me.”

“Yeah.” Peter squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, me too.”

***

The Méridien was a _really_ nice hotel by Peter’s standards, though probably only run-of-the-mill by Tony’s. Tony had booked them the presidential suite, of course. He tried to get Peter to take the bedroom with the king size bed, but Peter refused. The sofa bed was better than his dorm bed anyway, even with the mattress topper May had insisted on when he’d moved in. 

The first thing Tony did was toss a room service menu at him and say, “Pick something. Pick two things.”

Peter looked at the menu. It was fancy but not too fancy. “Turkey burger and the ravioli,” he decided. “Are you having anything or am I gonna eat by myself?”

Tony took the menu back from him and glanced it over. “Kale salad.”

Peter made a face. “Gross.”

“Not all of us are eighteen years old with super fast metabolisms,” Tony retorted.

Peter explored the rest of the suite while Tony called in their order. There was a full bathroom with a whirlpool and another bathroom with a shower. The suite had a view out the window of Cambridge, of course. He could see the MIT dome. 

He was standing at the window, just staring, when Tony came up and put his arm around his shoulders. He had a drink in his other hand. Peter could smell the scotch in it, and it kind of made him queasy. “Food should be here in about thirty,” he said. “You doing okay? Your head hurt at all?”

Peter shook his head. “You’re taking this really well.”

“Well, May and I had money on which one of us was going to get the drunk phone call, and I won, so.”

Peter managed a smile. “Having your drunk kid call you at midnight is winning?”

“Yep. She says she loves you, by the way. Actually, she says she ‘larbs’ you.”

Peter rested his head on Tony’s shoulder. “And you’re not mad?”

“Am I mad that you got drunk at a party and called me to come get you? No, kid. That’s the sort of decision I want you to make. Besides, breakups are extenuating circumstances.”

Peter sighed. “Yeah.” 

Tony steered them away from the window and back toward the sofa. He poured Peter a soda from the minibar. Peter expected him to ask about what had happened between him and MJ, but he didn’t. Instead he turned the TV on and found HGTV, which was running—what else?—old episodes of _House Hunters_. They were from before the Snap, and it was like they were from a different world altogether. But for once that felt comforting, rather than disorienting. 

Tony sat down and slid his arm back around Peter’s shoulders; Peter sank into Tony’s side and let his head fall to rest on his shoulder again.

“You want to talk about it?” Tony asked. 

Peter swallowed. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” Tony’s arm tightened briefly. “I’m here when you’re ready, kid.” 

***

Two full meals in his stomach, away from the constant noise of the dorms, with Tony in the next room over, Peter crashed hard and slept better than he had in weeks. For nine whole hours, which was––quite honestly, he couldn’t remember the last time that had happened. 

He was woken the next morning by the rattle of the room service cart. He listened to Tony speaking quietly to someone––probably the hotel employee who’d brought it––and then the door to the suite closed. Peter took a deep breath. He could smell coffee and pancakes and bacon and eggs. Strawberries, too, though that took a bit more concentration. Maple syrup. 

He felt Tony sit down at the end of the sofa bed and rest his hand on Peter’s foot. “Hey, kiddo, you awake? It’s after ten.”

“Yeah,” Peter said, rolling over. 

“You sleep okay?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said again, knuckling at his eyes. 

“Come have something to eat, and we can talk about what we want to do today,” Tony said, getting up. 

Peter dragged himself out of bed. It was a bright spring day outside, with sunshine filtering in through the curtains. Tony opened them wider while Peter poured himself a cup of coffee and started filling his plate. Tony had ordered an absurd amount of food for two people, but with Peter’s metabolism, it was probably just right. He really hadn’t been eating enough lately. It was always the first thing to go when his head was bad. 

His head had maybe been bad for a while now, Peter reflected. Getting dumped sucked, but waiting to get dumped hadn’t been a lot of fun, either.

“You okay?” Tony asked, watching him. 

“Yeah.” Peter bit into a piece of bacon. “Just thinking that, um. I might want to set up a Skype session with Dr. Raine this week.”

Tony nodded. “That’s a good thought.”

Peter moved things around on his plate. “It wasn’t out of the blue. I’d been waiting for it since she visited in March.”

“You didn’t say much about her visit,” Tony said. “May and I didn’t want to pry.”

He shrugged. “It wasn’t great. I knew when she left that it was... that we were probably over. We just didn’t click anymore, you know? Being together was hard. It never used to be hard.”

“I’m sorry, Pete,” Tony said. “Sometimes that happens.”

“It was like...” Peter struggled to find the right words. “It wasn’t like we became different people, it was more like we both became more ourselves. And we didn’t work together anymore.” He sighed deeply and sat up, forcing himself to take a bite of his pancakes. “I don’t want to mope about it the whole time you’re here.”

“Hey, I’m here so you _can_ mope about it,” Tony replied, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. “Ask Rhodey about the number of times I’ve moped to him. I’m just paying it forward, that’s all.”

Peter nodded. 

Tony poured himself some more coffee. He was eating fruit and yogurt with a bit of granola. It looked depressingly healthy. Peter put a piece of bacon on the edge of the plate underneath his bowl of granola, and Tony smiled at him. 

“So, today,” Tony said, leaning back with his bacon in hand. “Do you need to go to campus for anything?”

Peter thought about it a bit. “Yeah, I think I need to go and get some of my books. And a change of clothes. But I don’t need to go to the lab or anything like that.”

“Good. This place has a roof garden, and it’s a nice day out, I thought we might just hang out up there. Unless there’s something else you’d rather do?”

“No,” Peter said, “that sounds... that sounds great. Are you sure you don’t need to be getting back home?”

“Pep and Morgan have a girls’ weekend planned,” Tony replied. “I’ve been told not to show my face until Sunday evening at the earliest, and preferably Monday morning.”

Peter had no idea whether that was true, but it did relieve him of some of his guilt for taking Tony away from Morgan and Pepper for the weekend. 

“Keep eating, kid,” Tony said, nudging his foot under the table. “Don’t think I’m not keeping track. You’ve had half a pancake.”

Peter sighed. “Food is so annoying,” he grumbled. “I need _so much_ of it, and sometimes I’m not in the mood. Isn’t there a pill I can just take everyday?”

“No pills, but there are nutrition shakes.”

“They taste like chalk and chemicals.” 

“Maybe Bruce and I could come up with something that doesn’t. But until we do–– _eat your damn breakfast_.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Peter grumbled, and shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth. Tony picked up his StarkPad, but he kept eyeing Peter over it, like he thought Peter was going to start shoving food in his napkin or sneaking it to the nonexistent dog under the table. 

Annoying. But also, Peter admitted in the privacy of his own head, kind of nice. 

***

It ended up being the best day Peter had had in a long time. The rooftop deck was almost deserted, even though it was a beautiful day. Peter set up at a table that was half in the sun and half in the shade. He alternated between a paper for his philosophy course and his parts of the lab report for chem. He didn’t know what Tony was doing, sprawled out in a lounge chair with his StarkPad, but he didn’t look bored. 

Late in the afternoon, the sun shifted and the roofdeck was no longer quite as pleasant. Peter decided he’d done enough, and they packed it in. “What were you working on?” he asked Tony as they took the elevator down one floor to their suite. 

“Just a few upgrades for your suit,” Tony said. “And Rhodey’s suit. And the Rescue armor, even though Pepper says she’s never putting it on again. And, well, Sam needs some modifications now that he’s wearing the shield––”

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, grinning. “Retired?”

“Iron Man is retired,” Tony replied, keying them in. “Tony Stark? Not so much. I couldn’t stop inventing if I tried. Besides, I like knowing that I’m helping keep you safe. The others, too,” he added, with a shrug, “but especially you.”

Peter felt his ears turn red. “What kinds of upgrades are we talking about here?”

“Too early to talk about just yet,” Tony said, as Peter had suspected he would. “Come up to the house in a couple of weeks and I’ll show you.”

“Deal,” Peter said. 

They took a car across the river to a steakhouse Tony had fond memories of from his own days at MIT. Tony had called ahead––or had FRIDAY call ahead––and they’d given them a table in the back, tucked away from most of the other diners. Tony ordered some kind of red wine to go with his steak and let Peter try some when the waiter wasn’t looking. 

“It’s interesting,” Peter said, when Tony looked at him expectantly. “I like it better than the shit I was drinking last night.”

“I would hope so,” Tony said, slicing into his steak. He’d told the waiter he wanted it “so blue it moos.” Peter’s was medium, because he didn’t like his food to bleed. “I bet with your senses, you could get really into wine if you wanted to. All that shit people say they taste in it, you actually might.”

“Maybe,” Peter said dubiously. He slid the glass back across the table to Tony. “Think I’ll stay away from all alcohol for a while. At least until my head is better.”

“Smart idea,” Tony said. “Not one that I ever had, but I’m a lousy role model in that area.”

Peter looked down at his food. “I knew I probably shouldn't be drinking, but I’d told Ned I’d have some fun this weekend, and it was just––it felt like the only way I was going to get through that party was to drink.”

“There are lots of different ways to have fun. Anything you have to be drunk to enjoy probably doesn’t count.”

“I know.” Peter ate a couple of green beans. “Is it weird that I’d rather hang out with you than go to something like that?”

“No,” Tony said. “I mean, I’m me, and I’m fantastic, so there’s that.” Peter cracked a smile. “But also––I don’t know if it’s escaped your notice, Pete, but you’re an introvert. Parties might never really be your thing. Which doesn’t mean you don’t enjoy them under the right circumstances, but probably not when you’re already feeling pretty crummy.”

“Yeah,” Peter said. “In hindsight, that seems obvious. And I mean, it’s _Ned_. It’s not like I have to impress him. Actually...”

“What?”

“Ned said he wanted photographic evidence that I was having fun this weekend,” Peter said, scooting closer to Tony in the booth. “So I’m going to send him some.” He sat close to Tony and pulled out his phone. It was too dark in the restaurant for a really good photo, but it was obvious that they were both smiling. Peter slapped a filter on it, and sent it to Ned with the caption, _Evidence of fun being had._

 _Not quite what I had in mind_ , Ned wrote back almost immediately, _but you do you! Say hi to Tony for me_.

“Ned says hi,” Peter reported. 

“Hi Ned,” Tony replied. “Your food is getting cold, Pete.”

“Okay, okay,” Peter grumbled. “God, you are such an Italian grandmother sometimes.” He shoved a slightly too-large piece of steak in his mouth and chewed as ostentatiously as possible. Tony rolled his eyes and slid his baked potato over to Peter. He signaled the waiter for another glass of wine. 

Peter ate steadily for a couple of minutes, until the waiter had come and gone with Tony’s wine. Then he said, “Did I tell you MJ went vegan?”

“Seriously?” Tony said, raising his eyebrows. “I watched her put away a twenty-four ounce porterhouse steak at your graduation dinner.”

“Her friend Emmie said it’s better for the environment.”

“She’s not wrong. There are scientists in R&D at SI trying to crack lab-grown meat for exactly that reason.”

Peter nodded. He moved the food around on his plate and didn’t look up at Tony as he said, “I’m pretty sure she was sleeping with Emmie. And it wasn’t––it wasn’t cheating, because she and I agreed when we went away to school that we were together when we were together and we weren’t when we weren’t. I knew she’d been out with a few people. But I think––she didn’t tell me for sure, but the way she talked about her...”

“Aw, kid,” Tony said, mouth twisted in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Peter sighed. “But even if she hadn’t been, I don’t think we would’ve lasted.” He swallowed. “I think it’s pretty hard for a card-carrying democratic socialist to be with the future CEO of Stark Industries.”

Tony’s mouth open and closed a couple of times. He was hard to surprise. It felt weirdly satisfying to have managed it. “Ah,” Tony finally said. “Yeah. I can see how that would’ve been a bit... irreconcilable.” He sat back, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and took another sip of wine. “I honestly have no idea what to say, kid.”

Peter shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything. It wasn’t about you personally.” Tony looked skeptical and Peter grimaced. “Well. Only in the sense that she doesn’t think billionaires should exist. Mostly it was about the company. And I mean the thing is––I wasn’t ever going to give up SI. I really love the work I do there. I loved working in R&D last summer, and I think they do––I think _we_ do––a lot of stuff that’s really world-changing, or even world- _saving_. And I know SI gives away a lot of tech and a lot of money, too.”

“We could do more,” Tony said. “Pep and I are both open to new philanthropic initiatives.” 

“Sure,” Peter said. “And, I dunno, doing something for STEM programs in public schools would be great, because who knows where I’d be if I hadn’t been lucky enough to end up at Midtown. But even that wouldn’t be enough for her. It was just––I was never going to give up SI, and––and I think she’d started having a really hard time explaining me to her friends.”

“She told you that?” Tony asked, frowning. 

“No. This is just... reading between the lines.” Peter shrugged again. “Anyway, like you said. Irreconcilable. It’s probably a good thing she dumped me, because we both knew it had to happen, and I wasn’t brave enough to do it.” 

It hit him all over again, all at once. His eyes were suddenly hot, his throat unbearably tight. He shoved his food aside and buried his face in his hands. 

He managed to hold it together long enough for Tony to pay the check. Peter insisted that they get everything boxed up, too, even though Tony was clearly inclined to just leave it all behind, because Peter had half his steak left and most of his green beans and potatoes, and he wasn’t going to abandon a hundred dollars worth of food because he couldn’t keep his shit together. 

“Go sit in the car, all right?” Tony finally told him. “I’ll be right there, I promise.” 

Peter didn’t argue. The feeling that he was going to start bawling at any minute hadn’t abated, and if that happened, he at least wanted to alone. 

The night air helped a little bit. Peter took a few huge gulps of it and managed to find the car where their driver had parked it. He unlocked it and Peter climbed into the safety of the back seat. He loosened the stranglehold he had on himself and cried a little bit then, but not as much as he’d feared. He was kind of disgusted with himself. He wasn’t sorry they were heading back to the hotel, but it would’ve been nice if they’d been able to finish their meal.

His phone started buzzing. Peter glanced down at it reflexively and froze. 

_MJ_

He didn’t know what to do. Part of him wanted desperately to accept it. Maybe she was calling to say she wanted to get back together. Maybe she’d changed her mind. Maybe it was going to be okay. 

But part of him––most of him––knew that wasn’t the case. What Tony had said was right. Their differences were irreconcilable. That hadn’t always been the case, and maybe it wouldn’t be that way forever, but it was how it was right now. 

Peter declined the call. 

***

_”Hi Peter, I, um... shit, I shouldn’t be calling you. Emmie’s gonna murder me. But I didn’t––I just––fuck. I’m really sorry I hurt you. I know I did, and I never wanted to, and I still––I still love you a lot, I didn’t stop loving you, and I didn’t stop liking you, either, and I hope––I hope you’re not mad at me forever, because I really want to be friends again someday. It’s kind of killing me, thinking that you might hate me forever, so I hope you won’t. That’s all._

_Bye, Peter._

***

“Everything okay?” Tony asked, settling beside Peter on the sofa. 

“Yeah,” Peter said, using the heel of his hand to wipe his eyes. He hadn’t expected much when he’d listened to MJ’s voicemail while Tony was in the bathroom. He definitely hadn’t expected _that_.

“You should finish your dinner at some point.”

“I will.” For a second or two, Peter considered telling Tony. But then he thought about how she had sounded, a little slurred and lot more open than usual. He’d thought he was the only one having trouble sleeping, the only one dealing with things by drinking more than he should. But after listening to her message, he was suddenly certain that wasn’t true. 

In the end, he decided not to say anything. Some things even Tony didn’t need to know. 

Weirdly, even though he’d ended up leaking a few more tears over it, it had made him feel better to know that she was upset, too. He’d needed to know that she hadn’t just moved on without looking back. He still mattered to her, just like she still mattered to him. That made things just a little bit easier. Not a lot easier, but a little bit––just enough, maybe. 

“Does it always suck this hard?” Peter asked aloud. “Breaking up with someone?”

Tony ruffled Peter’s hair fondly. “You want the truth or a nice, comforting lie?”

“I’ll take the comforting lie.”

“Then no, it’s not always this hard. People get better at handling their shit as they get older, and it does not become infinitely more complicated to detangle your life from the life of the person you’ve been with for months or years.”

“Right,” Peter said, slumping into him. “Thanks.”

Tony pulled him closer and kissed him on the side of his head. “Love you, kid. And that won’t change no matter how many break-ups you go through. You’ve always got me and May on your side, all right?”

Peter nodded. “I know that. Thanks. I, um. I think I can eat something now?”

“You got it.” Tony got up to dig the leftovers out of the suite’s fridge. 

Peter took his phone out again. He opened up his text messages and looked at his conversation with MJ. He was tempted to scroll back and start reading, but that was a rabbit hole he knew he shouldn’t fall down. He drew a deep breath. 

_I don’t hate you at all_ , he wrote. _You did what needed to be done. It wasn’t your fault or my fault. I still like you, too._

He sent it. Then he turned his phone off and slipped it in his pocket. 

Tony returned with a takeout container full of food, along with sodas for both of them. Peter dug in. Even though the meat was cold and the butter on the potato was congealed, it somehow tasted better than it had in the restaurant. 

“You’re gonna be okay, kid,” Tony said, cupping the back of his neck. 

Peter nodded and looked up at him. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.”

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> This was a fun revisiting of the painful slow-motion, long-distance dissolution of the relationship of my early twenties. Never again. Urgh.
> 
> Please feed the writer!


End file.
